In Pursuit of a Princess

“Deidre, remind me again—you didn’t see who delivered this?” Gabriel said.

Deidre looked at him, then glanced toward the princess.

“Go ahead, answer him,” Lara said on a gentle voice. “He’s here to observe and take pictures, but he might be able to help.”

“I didn’t see anyone, and Herbert has already gone home so we can’t ask him.”

“Maybe we can call him. He might have taken the package.” Gabriel wanted to reassure the girl. “I’m trying to piece things together before we call the police.”

“The police?” Lara glared at him and shook her head. “I told you, no police. My head of security—”

A door down the hallway burst open and a tall bull of a man with tight graying curls muscled his way into the room. “Your Highness, we’ve alerted the team. We’ve got guards stationed all around the property.”

“—is here right now.” Lara moved away from the offending package but waved her hand toward it. “Thank you, Malcolm. There it is. This is what all the fuss is about. Quite silly, honestly.”

Malcolm glanced at the voodoo doll, then turned to stare at Gabriel. “What’s your take?”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, surprised that anyone cared about his thoughts on this. He didn’t want to be involved in whatever was going on. He’d already met Malcolm Plankston through a thorough vetting interview that had left him wondering if the man would even let him go on with his assignment. Apparently, he’d been approved. “I take it very seriously,” he said. “I’ve encouraged Princess Lara to call the police.”

“And I’ve discouraged that notion,” Lara retorted. “It’s another of those odd pranks people tend to play on me. Some of the locals don’t appreciate my interest in rebuilding New Orleans. They tend to forget that I lived here for many years myself.”

“I agree with Mr. Murdock,” Malcolm said. “The authorities need to hear about this. You’ve stirred up publicity with this art fundraiser and the public knows you’re here. You’re vulnerable.”

“No,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The local police will laugh in my face and tell me this is just someone’s way of welcoming me home. You know how they scorn my presence here. They think I’m just another celebrity wanting media attention. I won’t bring them in on this and that’s final.”

Gabriel knew not to argue with a woman who stood tapping her expensive-looking leather pump against the polished wood floor. And he knew not to overstep his position by urging her head of security to go against her wishes.

Malcolm lifted the doll with a pair of tweezers that somehow appeared out of nowhere. Probably from inside Deidre’s deep pockets. The woman kept pulling things out of each one like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.

“Odd little thing,” Malcolm said, his mustache twitching while he seemed to stop blinking. “I’ll take it out to the shop and analyze it, but I think it’s harmless.” He dropped the doll, then turned to the princess. “I won’t call in the New Orleans police this time, Your Highness. But if anything else out of the ordinary occurs, I will have to do my duty and report it.”

“Agreed,” Lara replied, clearly relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else official tonight. “I promise I’ll keep you apprised. Deidre and I will be diligent on that account, I can assure you.”

Malcolm cast a furrowed glance toward Deidre. “I assume you will make sure this never happens again.”

Deidre’s eyes misted. “You have my word on that, sir.”

“Good,” Malcolm the Intimidator said in his firm, gruff, no-nonsense voice. “Your position here could very well depend on it.”

Lara walked around the desk and took Deidre’s hand. “It’s all right. You are not going to be dismissed. Go on to bed and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

Deidre rushed out of the room, her brown ponytail bouncing, her walnut-colored loafers squeaking.

Lara had a serene look on her face when she reached out her left hand and placed it on Malcolm’s gray wool suit. “Don’t ever reprimand Deidre in that way again, Mr. Plankston. Do I make myself clear?”

Malcolm swallowed, gulped and nodded. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

“Good night, Malcolm.”

And the man was officially dismissed.

Which left Gabriel alone with a princess. An ice princess.

“Impressive,” he said, rocking back and forth on his boots. “I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side.”

She gave him an emerald-tinged stare. “Deidre has been with me since the day I married Theo. She’s a dear girl—not much younger than me, really—a bit shy but very efficient. I won’t have Malcolm bullying her since his team seemed to have entirely missed this delivery’s arrival. He knows this wasn’t her fault. I’m the one who insisted on relaxing my security while I’m here. I’m the one who wanted a little more privacy and a lot less formality.”

Gabriel could understand her need for privacy, and he was pretty sure she should learn to relax a little more. But she was a princess, after all. “You’re known the world over. Privacy is a hard commodity to come by, especially when someone as famous and well loved as you comes to New Orleans. That’s the proverbial fishbowl way of living, Your Highness.”

“That is a way of living that I have found very wearisome, Mr. Murdock. And please, call me Lara.”

“As long as you call me Gabriel,” he reminded her with a soft twist of a smile. “And it’s time for me to go, too. Are you sure—”

“I’m fine. If I know Malcolm, he’ll have a guard at the front door to make sure you get out safely and I stay in safely. I’ll show you out.”

She walked him to the door, her heels clicking in a dainty princess way. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’s the plan.” He turned and took her hand. “Thank you for tea and dinner and...a bit of excitement.”

“Don’t get used to that,” she said on a soft smile. “My life is not as exciting as the world might think.”

Gabriel bid her good-night, thinking she was wrong on that.

And as he tipped his hand to the burly guard hovering on the front veranda, he was pretty sure the excitement was just beginning.

* * *

Lara sat at her dressing table in her upstairs bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. With no makeup and her hair down around her shoulders, she looked drawn and fatigued. Not exactly the image the world wanted to see.

She didn’t care about that right now. She only saw the shadow of a mourning widow in her gilded mirror. And so much more. How did she explain to the world that she was tired of being a princess and that she only wanted to be herself, free and unencumbered by rules and protocol and regulations and proper procedures?

Lara turned from her brocade-covered stool and tugged her cashmere robe around her. It was early spring in the South, but the nights could still be cool. She paced over the hundred-year-old, hand-woven rug centered in the sitting area of the big, comfortable bedroom then went to the French doors and stared out into the back garden. Her mind fluttered here and there like a butterfly.

Esther and Cullen had gotten married right here in the garden. She’d insisted on giving them a reception to remember, and they’d pulled it off without too many problems with the media. Friends of a princess getting married didn’t carry nearly as much weight as a princess getting married. Or remarried. The tabloids had a new story every week on that one. By the latest count, she should have been remarried about four times at least.

But she had yet even to go out with a man, let alone consider marrying one.

She thought of Gabriel Murdock and felt a strange tapping in her heart. He was certainly handsome in a swarthy, swaggering way. The man looked like a map of life, world-weary and scarred, well traveled and frayed, and interesting.

Too interesting. When he’d taken her hand, a pleasant warmth had moved through her and reminded her she was still a woman.

Her cell hummed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“I got your invitation.”

“And I got your gift. You can’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to help you.”